


Broken Hearts

by Groot_the_tree



Series: Whumptober 2020 [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Drinking & Talking, Established Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Friendship, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Jim Moriarty is a Little Shit, John Watson Thinks Sherlock Holmes is Dead, M/M, Men Crying, Moriarty is Dead, Old Friends, Post-Reichenbach, Sad, Sebastian Moran & John Watson Friendship, Sebastian Moran Thinks Jim Moriarty is Dead, Suicidal Thoughts, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27102883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Groot_the_tree/pseuds/Groot_the_tree
Summary: No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor’s Guilt-Post-Reichenbach, John is mourning Sherlock and bumps into an old friend who knows exactly what he is going through.
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Whumptober 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948387
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	Broken Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Going to be honest, I'm not feeling good about this one. Wrote it in like an hour and a half with a migraine, might be garbage.

It was like everything was in slow motion but yet too fast for him to notice anything going on around him. 

From the moment that he saw the man falling from the top of the hospital until the time he saw him laying on the pavement, blood flowing from his face, laying at strange angles. There was a lot happening around him and he wasn’t sure what half of it was. 

He doesn’t know how, but somehow he finds himself standing in the flat and everything looks okay. He doesn’t know how. It’s only been a couple of hours since they were both here, things were okay then, but now they’re not and John feels he needs to make the flat look as bad as the situation feels, as bad as he feels. 

People, even Sherlock, always talked about who Sherlock Holmes would be without his blogger, but for some reason, no one ever stopped to think about who the blogger would be without the reason he writes, without his inspiration. 

Nobody. A sad, lonely man who has no one in this world, who feels miserable and, just like that, was back to the man he was two years ago, thinking about the gun, that now seems to be burning his leg where he had put it when leaving in a rush hours before. 

It was hard to believe it was only a couple of years ago that he had met Sherlock, he feels like he’s known all his life. Of course, there are some days with him that seemed to go on for years but that wasn’t what he meant by knowing him longer. There was a connection there, something they both felt and cared for greatly. A love between the two of them that they denied but no one believed them when they did. Everyone knew about it, it was clear to see how much they care for each other. 

Hell, John killed someone for the man after less than a week of knowing him, that had to be a sign. To them, it was, but no one else was to know about that. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to look at who it was, lost in his thoughts, he thought, for a moment, it might have been Sherlock. It wasn’t. It was Greg's. That was how he got here. 

It took another moment before he felt the tears that were making their way down his face as he fights to stop them. He never was one for crying, showing his feelings in such an obvious way. That was another thing he liked about Sherlock, he didn’t have to show his feelings so much, Sherlock could deduce them with ease. It made things much easier, even if they did have to discuss it on occasion when Sherlock didn’t understand. 

“Come on, I have an extra room,” Greg says, pulling him out of his thoughts again, “You can stay with me for a while, I don’t think it’s going to help you at all to be here right now.” 

John only nods, not trusting his voice at the moment. 

“We’ll stop and pick up some alcohol on the way,” Even if he wasn’t showing it as much, it was clear to John that this was bothering the other as well, neither were in the best place at the moment and neither was ready to talk about it, but he nods and they leave the flat, the thought of something to make him forget, or lessen the pain, at least, was too good to pass up on. 

-

Across London, there was another man mourning as well. 

Sebastian Moran looks up at the cloudy sky, thinking it would be an appropriate time for the skies to open and the rain to start pouring down. Of course, whatever god was listening decided to grant his wish and before long, his clothes were soaking wet and no one could tell what on his face was rain and what was tears. 

He had been on the roof across from Bart’s watching the whole thing go down. He had been given specific orders not to follow his boss but, in true Moran fashion, when he was given an order that didn’t sit right with him, he didn’t follow it. 

Waiting until his boss was gone, he packed up and followed, rifle in hand, only planning on using the scope to see what was going to happen. 

And that was how he died inside. Seeing his boss, partner, lover, shoot himself in the head and falling back, dead, was something he never needed to see, never thought he would have to. But here he is. 

He wanders through the street, feeling lost, like he’s not even alive anymore and never will be. He has no one, doesn't want anyone. Jim was it for him and now he’s alone in this life without meaning or purpose. 

The web is his now but he has no idea what to do with it, he doesn’t know how to run a business and has always done better taking orders than giving them. He’ll have to sort it out later when he’s not feeling so numb.

The only thing he wants to do now is run up to that roof and get Jim, take his body, make sure he’s safe, but that feels like it would be a suicide mission and he doesn’t have plans to go out at anyone’s hand but his own. 

Even that is a new plan, Jim was supposed to kill him. They talked about it, he had accepted it. This wasn’t the plan.

He wasn’t even thinking when he stumbled into the shop and started looking through the alcohol selection, not noticing anything around him as he grabs a couple of bottles of whiskey and a case of beer, something to numb. Then, perhaps, something to kill. 

“Colonel Moran?” He hears from his right as he turns to look, wondering how anyone could recognize him like that. Most people didn’t know him as the army man, and few that did wouldn’t include the army title after what he had done to get him dishonorably discharged. 

“Captain Watson,” He states, rearranging what he was holding to reach a hand out to the man. “I was going to say you look well but you sort of look like hell.” He states, honestly. 

John looks at him, as amused as he can at the moment, “Have you seen yourself lately?” He counters back. 

Sebastian gives a humorless laugh, “Yeah, well, not been having the best of days, if I’m honest.” 

John nods, “I haven’t been either.” 

Sebastian looks at what they both have and then back to the man, “Want to go somewhere and discuss this? Catch up a little? If you don’t have something else going on, we could go back to or-mine.” 

“I’m here with a friend actually, he’s not having the best time either.” 

“Well, he could come along too if he’d like.” Sebastian offers, already planning that he’s not going to be here much longer either, why not do something stupid and talk to someone about the stuff he has going on. 

John nods, “Yeah, okay, I’ll go find him and ask him.” He responds, walking over to the next aisle to find Greg. 

It was a few minutes later that they were in a cab, too much alcohol filling the space for them to be sitting comfortably, and Sebastian cursing himself for unknowingly inviting a police officer into his flat. Too late now though and something being dangerous hasn’t stopped him before, plus he has the advantage of having nothing to live for now. It’ll be fine. 

The cab pulls to a stop and Sebastian reaches for the money for the ride to the driver, getting out with the bags of alcohol he had bought, leading the other two into the large building and up to the top floor where the too large flat was located. 

Of his options, this was the cheapest and smallest. Jim had very expensive taste in everything and, since this was the smallest and cheapest, it was the less used one. He wasn’t sure he could go back to their house right now, or even one of the flats that they often used. 

“Make yourselves comfortable,” He says, sitting down, removing his boots out of habit, knowing Jim would be yelling if he doesn’t. As soon as they’re off he starts on one of the bottles of whiskey, drinking it straight from the bottle. 

John and Greg look around the large, clean room in shock, expecting something smaller and less neat from the man in front of him. 

“Have you changed this much, Moran?” John asks, snapping himself out of it, opening a bottle of beer, lightly pushing Greg to get him moving again as well. 

Sebastian gives another humorless laugh, “Partner, very expensive taste. He is- or was, rich as well, businessman.” 

“Was?” John asks, carefully sitting on one of the white chairs as though afraid to get it dirty.   
“He’s dead now, suicide.” 

John nods, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, my own…partner did the same. I think he had to do it for some reason, said he was a fake, and jumped. It was earlier today, actually.” 

Sebastian nods, he wasn’t an idiot, he knew who John Watson was, who Sherlock Holmes was. He just wasn’t going to admit to them who he was. 

“It sucks,” Sebastian admits, “I don’t know what to do without him. Met him right out of the army, started working for him and he soon became my world if that doesn’t make you want to be sick.” He adds, an attempt to lighten the mood. “I mean, he was my boss, partner, I was his bodyguard essentially. Feel like I’ve failed him.” He was a little shocked at his own confession but takes another drink of the whiskey to cover it up. 

John nods, “Everything feels fake, like all of this is some bad dream and I’m going to wake up and things will be normal but I know that’s not going to happen.” Deciding he’s too sober for this, he downs the rest of his beer and opens another bottle. 

Greg sits quietly, watching and listening to the other two, feeling like he might need to be the adult and stop them later so they don’t both get alcohol poisoning.   
“Yeah, I’m still hoping that feeling goes away. The hope, I know it’s just going to end up hurting more but I hate the hope that he’s still alive and knowing he’s not. It isn’t fair. But people like to remind others that life isn’t fair and I suppose that’s right. I just want to know why he did it and I want an actual reason and not the bull shit ones I know he would give.” 

“What reasons would he give?” Greg asks, curiously. 

“That’s he was bored. That he wanted to know what death is like. Something like that, the fucker.” He states, sounding annoyed, taking another drink from the bottle that was well under half full now. 

“Sounds like something Sherlock would have done,” Greg says, looking to John. 

“Yeah, but it isn’t is it?” John asks, his voice giving out at the end of the sentence as he has to fight back the tears again. 

“What were his reasons?” Sebastian asks, feeling he already knows the true ones. Secret or not, he had seen that plan. 

“That he was a fake, that he wasn’t who anyone thought he was and that I shouldn’t believe everything I think I know about him. But I do. I’m not going to stop believing in him.” 

“Don’t. Stop, that is. Continue to believe it.” Sebastian says, knowing what John knows is the truth and not the lies Jim made Sherlock say. He doesn’t see how the truth would hurt now anyway. 

He’ll do what he can to make sure John and his friend leave here feeling better, knowing that as soon as the two bottles of whiskey are in him, if he can still hold a gun, this will be the end of the line for him. Screw Jim Moriarty and his web, it's time Sebastian does something for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are nice.   
> Let me know if it is garbage.


End file.
